


Under the sky, among the waves

by justAleks



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Zuko (Avatar)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25554319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justAleks/pseuds/justAleks
Summary: Zuko, on one of his sleepless nights on his ship, allows himself a moment of weakness. With only the sky, the sea, and the old ship as his witnesses, he lets his emotions run wild if only for a moment.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	Under the sky, among the waves

The sea is ink-black and endless and threatens to swallow him and his pitiful ship in one gulp at any given moment. Its calm vast surface is just another reminder that the rust bucket swaying sleepily on its surface stays afloat just because it feels merciful for now.

The sky above, similarly dark, blinks at him with its myriad of stars and only offers him an anchor point in navigating but otherwise is as uncaring as anything else surrounding the old vessel. Indifference is better than hostility — whispers a small voice in his mind, so the banished prince takes comfort in the clear night sky stretching above his head and the constellations that he had come to be intimately familiar with — one thing that will never lie to him. It’s another reason he can find a sliver of comfort in the void.

The moon is high and its full, round face watches over Zuko with its cold, reflected light and leeches out any colors from the world below it. Everything feels cold and alien, even after a year and a half out on the sea.

Zuko closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, feels salt on the back of his tongue (he hates it so much) and lets the universe swallow him. The steady creaking of his ship and the murmur of the waves try to tell him secrets, or offer comfort, or laugh at his desperate chase after a legend, that’s been alive only on tongues and paper for hundred years now, but Zuko does not know their languages and he allows himself to take comfort in the soft noise that is keeping him company. It lulls him into a trance-like state and he allows the deep ache that has taken a residency in his soul, to spill from the depths he pushes it in, over his whole self. 

It laps at his inner fire, burning angry and bright during the day but now, in the middle of the night, somewhat dimmed — flickering as tired as the prince himself. Zuko tries to reach into the anger that is always buzzing just underneath his skin but it sizzles like a dying candle or a match burning itself out. He wants to rouse it — anger is better than the lethargy weighing him down, making his thoughts black and gloomy, and so slow it is easy to start thinking about how pitifully slim his chances are at finding the avatar — but the fire keeps flickering. 

It’s been a year and a half of relentlessly chasing after a legend, and it starts wearing him down, chipping away at his hope to come home.

He just wants to go _home_.

Zuko feels a wave of homesickness crash over him and punch the air out of his lungs. He gasps and clutches the railing like a lifeline as a wave after wave of grief washes over his soul. His anger flickers back to life. He is angry at himself (his father) for being weak (for discarding him like a ragdoll). 

He wants to leave this rustbucket behind, he wants his room — big and cozy and lived in, holding memories of better times (not that many) — he wants to take a long hot bath and he wants to sleep in a bed that does not sway to the rhythm of a merciless sea. 

Zuko opens his eyes to the scary darkness and lets out a breath he just now notices got stuck in his lungs. 

The universe peers at him, uncaring for his struggles, and Zuko feels small and lost, and tired.

Oh, Agni, he is so, so _tired_. 

The ship creaks underneath him, old and tired, and unhappy to be out at the sea again. It’s late enough that feeling sympathy for an outdated warship seems like a sound idea and Zuko allows himself the moment. 

He looks down, over the edge of the ship, and gazes into the water swirling because of the propellers pushing the vessels onwards, always onwards because stopping would mean rest, and rest would mean time to think, and Zuko just can _not_ do that. He cannot rest, he cannot stop. He has to find the avatar even if it is the last thing he does. He is stubborn, and he will do this even if it means he will have to fight against the universe itself.

The depths below his ship swirl and are so dark they look like a void. A shiver runs down his spine as he stares at the black water. It laps at the sides of the small vessel and is mercifully peaceful now but Zuko feels a primal fear curling along his spine like cold claws. That water could snuff his internal fire just as easily as a child blows out a match and would do so just as eagerly.

The water shimmers in agreement. The reflected light of the moon makes his own fire strain away from it. The light in itself is cold, a mere reflection of Agni’s light — distant and alien — but reflected from the surface of the water, while he is standing on the deck of a battered and discarded vessel in the middle of nowhere, fills him with so much loneliness and longing Zuko wants to fucking scream. His throat burns and his palms warm up with the liquid fire coursing through his veins. 

It awakens something else as well, something he wants to lock down in the darkest part of his soul.

He pushes down the poisonous thoughts, slithering at the outskirts of his mind and hissing about the cruelty and unfairness of his banishment. Those thoughts are dangerous, bitter, and too painful. 

He just needs to catch the avatar to go home. He _can_ do it, no matter what other people say. What his crew murmurs when they think he can’t hear them. What even his uncle tries to say when Zuko leads them after yet another lead he picked up. His father gave him this task because he _can_ catch the avatar. He can and he _will_.

Zuko becomes aware of the tight pull of the scar tissue across his face, of the blurry vision in his eye and the cottony sound in his ear.

He can feel the warm hand cradling his face, heating up, up, up until his world shrunk down to just the blinding pain. An echo of a burned child's shrill scream fills his ears. 

Zuko takes a deep breath and under the salt, he can faintly taste ashes. The salt and seaweed scent of the water surrounding him holds a note of burning flesh in it. 

The poison swirls in his blood and scorches his soul. His fire burns bright for a moment, licking at his insides. 

Anger surges — unfocused and vague (and Zuko keeps it that way) but bright, feeding the flames of his inner fire. His palms become red-hot and finally, Zuko gives into the need to do something, _anything_ before the fire burns _him_ to ashes and he sends a jet of flames into the night. His eye twinges at the sudden light. His breath rattles in his chest and Zuko clamps his mouth shut to stop the scream clawing its way out of his throat. His crew has a low opinion of him as it is, screaming his heart out at the dead of night would definitely not improve it.

Even worse, Uncle Iroh would start worrying (even more).

The water keeps humming unbothered.

The stars twinkle amused and the moon keeps up her steady gaze.

He feels alone, even more so now, after his outburst. 

He gasps for air, sparks come out flying from his lips, and Zuko closes his eyes again, curling over the railing and clutching it in a python-boa tight grip.

The lack of any witnesses allows him to snap out of the torrent of emotion. His mind gets stuck on one thing and he clings to it, so the storm of hurt, and bitterness, and anger does not sweep him from his feet and bring him to any more poisonous thoughts.

(He deserves the pain and the punishment. It was not in vain. It was just to teach him a lesson because Zuko understands only through a hands-on approach.)

There’s not a single soul to witness his shameful display of weakness. Zuko looks around to confirm this but the deck behind the engines is as empty as it was when he stepped (slunk) on to it. He looks up and there’s only light coming from the helm as far as he can tell. Noone is patrolling the damn deck and Zuko should rip his crew a new one for such blatant disrespect for safety. 

It should not matter that they haven’t seen any ships in a few days. They are old almost derelict fire nation vessel wandering through Earth Kingdom waters. Sinking them down or boarding would not be a problem. 

Zuko focuses on the familiar irritation at his crew of rejects, thankful, for once, for their worrying habit of testing how much disrespect and defiance is accepted before even a banished prince and his not-banished-but-not-exactly-in-favor uncle will be pushed to dismiss one of the crew members. 

Luckily for them, probably only an open mutiny would do the trick. It’s a miracle that Zuko has a (barely skeleton) crew and a ship to start with so he is not so eager to party with any of them. 

This does not stop Zuko from making a mental note to give them hell and hearing loss come morning. 

The irritation pushes other emotions back and Zuko straightens his spine. He fills his lungs with blessedly clean air and welcomes the salt on the back of his tongue. His grip is no longer that of a drowning man and the void of the sea below him and the sky above him finally stop crushing him down. 

He still can feel their weight, but at last, Zuko can again stand tall and breathe easily. 

The banished prince turns and starts heading (sneaking) back to his room to maybe catch a moment of sleep or, at the very least, pretend that he did.


End file.
